Bleed Red
by EnchantedWriter3
Summary: Reba and Brock have always seemed to be the perfect couple with no hidden secrets, but one day Brock does something that he promised that he'd never do. Will Reba be able to forgive him?


Brock Hart was driving home from another night out with some of his buddies he'd gotten to know through the golf course. Using the reason that he'd been stressed out lately, he went out once again without his wife. Though, to anyone who seen the two together seemed to think that they were the perfect couple. He was a dentist with a highly successful practice; they had two children, Cheyenne, who was nine, and Kyra had just turned four. Reba was a stay-at-home mother who always made sure her family was happy, but herself.

What most people didn't know was that their relationship had slowly been declining for the past few months. Everything led to a fight, and Brock's frequent nights out led to many fights. This night was not any different. He walked in and glanced at the clock on the wall that flashed 1:02am. He sighed, and then headed up the stairs, knowing he'd be in trouble with Reba once he entered the bedroom. Brock always knew what he was in for when he returned, but that never kept him from repeating the actions.

"Hey, Brock," Reba said as she sat up in bed.

"Hey, what are you still doing up?"

"Just waiting on you," her tone changed to be a bit more irritated, and sarcastic. "I appreciate you coming home on time tonight."

"Reba, I don't want to hear it."

"Probably as much as I don't want to sit here all night by myself waiting on you to get here, but that sure doesn't mean that it won't happen," she paused for a moment. "Have you been drinking?"

"Just a little bit."

"Brock! I've told you that I don't care if you want to have a few drinks with your buddies, but you will not come into this house drunk, especially with our daughters down the hallway!"

Their voices began to escalate, but not enough to wake the kids sleeping down the hallway.

"Why do you have to jump on me every single time I want to take a damn night to myself? What's so wrong with that?"

Brock picked up an old tee shirt and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Reba hated to fuss at him, but she hated being alone even more. The weakness inside always seemed to get the best of her when she tried not to complain about his nights out, but she got to the point where she wanted to walk away from their problems sometimes, from their arguments.

He came flying out of the room, dressed to go to bed, and took his blanket off of the bed, "I'm sleeping on the couch tonight."

"Brock, come back here!" she yelled. "Why don't you talk to me instead of walking out? Damnit, Brock! Would you not act so stupid for a change?" Normally, Reba would never say anything like that, but her redheaded temper got the best of her.

He came back and stood in front of her, "I said I don't want to hear it."

"Well, you're about to hear it."

Brock's anger took over in that moment, as he raised his hand and slapped her across the face. Reba, on instant reaction, fired back and hit him in the face. Before he had realized it, he hit her back. He took a step back after realizing what he had just done. Reba put her hand to her burning cheek, and tried to open her eye.

"God, Reba, I am so sorry, baby. Come here."

Reba was in absolute shock. Never had he come as close as raise his hand to hit her, nor had that thought ever crossed his mind. She didn't know what to do, somewhat afraid to say anything else. Every ounce of anger and frustration she had completely exited her mind and was replaced with fear and weakness.

"Brock, get out. Now, please."

He didn't say a word or try to make any move toward here, just did as she asked him to. Brock made his way down the stairs and wanted to kick himself with each step he made. He just hit his wife because he had a little too much to drink. He swore he'd never touch her, and he broke that promise. He didn't know what to do but she asked.

Reba was still upstairs, as clueless to the situation as he was. She got in bed and pulled the covers up as far as she could to her face. Shaken up, she painfully shut her eyes and tried to fall asleep and fall away from it. The tear that fell burned her now-black eye. Every thought ran through her mind. How was she supposed to tell the kids? What would she tell the kids? Could she face Brock tomorrow?

She just didn't know.

The next morning came slowly after a night that seemed to drag on forever. Reba got up out of bed and, first thing, walked over to her bedroom vanity. The reflection that looked back at her did not show anything but anger and confusion. She knew in the back of her mind that he didn't mean to strike her. Or was he just mad enough to mean it? She quickly applied a bit of makeup to cover the darkness around her left eye before she ran downstairs to make breakfast.

Brock was still laying on the couch, and noticed her trying to creep down the stairs. "Morning," he said, unsure of what her response will be.

"Morning," she replied and kept walking, not making any eye contact.

Brock got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen and waited for her to notice him. He finally wrapped his arms around her waist, as he did on most mornings.

"What are you doing?"

"Brock, don't touch me."

"Can we talk about last night?"

"What do you want to talk about?" She tried to soften her voice, "How you went out, got drunk, and decided to come home and take out your anger on me? Oh, okay! Let's talk about it."

"Look, I'm sorry. I know I messed up, but you know I would never hurt you, and I will do anything to prove to you that I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't mean to, but you think you can say a simple 'sorry' and it will be okay. It won't."

At that moment, Cheyenne and Kyra came down for breakfast.

"Morning, mama," said the youngest daughter.

"Morning, sweeties. How would you like to eat breakfast in front of the TV today?" she asked, smiling at the blonde child.

"Yeah."

"Okay, well go on in there and sit down and I'll bring your food to you in a minute."

"Okay," Kyra agreed and walked on into the living room.

"Mama, why is your eye darker than the other?"

"Mama's just tired," Reba said as she grinded her teeth. "Now, go on and sit down with your sister."

Reba finished up fixing the eggs and bacon, then took it into the living room for the kids. Walking back into the kitchen, she started to break down in tears, trying not to be seen. "I just lied to my baby, Brock, because I can't say your daddy hit me."

He knew it was the right moment; he went over to her and held her against his body. He whispered the words, "I love you."

"I love you, too. Come upstairs with me."

He did as she asked, and followed her upstairs to their bedroom. She shut the bedroom door and guided him to the bed.

"Look, I don't want the girls to hear us. Last night should not have happened; you know that as well as I do. Things are going to have to change. I want this going out stuff to end right now. I don't care if you want to go out every now and then with your buddies. I don't care if you guys have a few drinks. But going out nearly every single weekend night and coming home drunk with your kids here is not going to cut it anymore."

Reba never told him what to do or how to do anything, so he knew he better listen to what she had to say. She sat beside him, crying, while angered.

"I swear, you don't get it. I've never told you how to go about your nights out, but I am now. If you think I'm going to sit here every single damn time you are out, taking care of two kids, you are wrong. It stresses me out and it sure as hell ain't good for this baby. I tried to keep back and not bother you about it, but when you touched me last night…no, I'm not going that route."

"Baby? What do you mean, baby?"

"I mean, last night when you came in, I had made dinner and I was going to tell you then."

As if he didn't already feel like nothing for hitting his wife, she was pregnant at that. And of all nights for him to screw up, he picked the worst.

"Look, I'm not dealing with this anymore. You are here for these kids, and that's what matters the most. But right now, I need you more than anything, and so does this child," she said as she placed her hand on her flat stomach. "If we are fighting, we're both just losing…we're only wasting time."

"Reba, I know I messed up and I know how insincere you believe this to be, but I am sorry. You know I never meant to hit you, and I can't believe I was stupid and drunk enough to do that. I promised you I'd never do it, and I lied. Just give forgiveness a chance."

"Just stop. I know you never meant to, but this all stops right now. For the sake of my sanity and for this child. Okay?"

Brock wrapped his arms around her, and let her express a long cry. She laid over his lap, and he leaned over her, as if protecting her. "Never again."

They both stood up as they heard another fight break out between their two girls downstairs.

"Brock, can we handle another one?" she asked nervously.

"Let's just hope for a boy…" he said as he noticed a smile grow across her face.


End file.
